The Doctor and the Queen
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: Just how did the Doctor get that close to Good Queen Bess? Spoilers for "The End of Time." 10/OC, with implied 10/Rose.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Having always wondered what the Doctor did to anger Queen Elizabeth, I was grateful that my curiosity was satisfied in "The End of Time." And yet...it wasn't. I wanted to know more. So...I decided to write the story. Enjoy!

* * *

The Doctor and the Queen

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

**1599**

"Did you hear that?" Back inside the TARDIS, Martha struggled to catch her breath, an understandable consequence of having to unexpectedly run for her life. "Did you hear what she said?"

The Doctor was already pulling levers and switching controls, taking his ship as far away from 16th century London as possible. "Oh, I heard her all right."

"'Off with his head,'" Martha crowed. "Can you believe it? She actually said 'off with his head!' Queen Elizabeth! The first Queen Elizabeth!"

"That she did."

His subdued tone effectively wiped away a bit of her elation. "I suppose this sort of thing happens to you all the time."

The Doctor jerked his head to one side. "Well...more than it does to most people, yeah."

Martha glanced back at the TARDIS doors. "You've really got no idea why Queen Elizabeth has it out for you?"

"Not a clue."

"And..." She took a tentative step towards him. "You're okay with that?"

He grinned. "Honestly...it's more fun this way, isn't it?"

"Running about time and space, never knowing who might be out to get you for something you haven't even done yet?" Martha snorted softly. "Don't know that I'd call that fun."

"Then it's a good thing you've only signed on for one trip."

The Doctor pulled a lever and the TARDIS wrenched to one side, almost knocking them both off their feet. With the ship on course for the 21st century, he planted his hands on the control panel, his intense eyes focused on Martha.

"I'm used to living things out of order," he went on. "It's all part and parcel of the Time Lord life. Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey." He paused and smiled. "That's good. I should remember that one."

"Doesn't that drive you mad, though?" Martha pressed on as she climbed up onto the pilot's seat. "I know it would make me positively barmy!"

"Suppose it did drive me mad." The Doctor leveled her with a look. "How would you ever know the difference?"

It took Martha a second to shake her head. "Someday. Promise me that someday...if you ever do discover why Queen Elizabeth wants your head...you'll find me and tell me."

Instead of replying, the Doctor changed the subject once again. "Just one trip, that's what I said. One trip in the TARDIS and then home..."

* * *

"Stop that pernicious Doctor!"

While Shakespeare laughed and her guards chased the Doctor and his dark-skinned companion, the Queen took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. It was little wonder that seeing him again in the Globe Theatre, least likely of places, had unbalanced her senses, but she wasn't a young woman anymore.

Although he hadn't changed a bit. He was exactly the same, from his clothing to his hairstyle. Time had stood still for the Doctor, the man she had sworn she would see punished one day.

The man who, after forty years, made her feel like no time at all had passed since the last time they'd met. She'd been practically a girl then, a queen just starting her reign, unable to trust anyone, not even her own court.

Except for him. She'd trusted him, hadn't she?

Oh, she wanted the guards to catch her Doctor, but deep down, she knew they'd come back empty-handed. Perhaps it was best that they did, better that he got away.

Because, really, what did a woman, even a queen, say to the man...the husband who had stolen her maidenhead and broken her heart?

* * *

**1559**

It had been raining for two weeks without stop, long enough so that whispered rumors had begun to circulate the palace.

God was angry that a Protestant had taken the throne and he was sending a second flood to deal with the heretic whore who now ruled England.

Heretic whore. As her lady-in-waiting tightened her corset, the new queen bit back a bitter laugh. Why should it matter what was said about her in dark corners and locked chambers? Her own mother had been called far worse in her time and just as Anne had withstood the insults and gossip as the King's consort, so would Elizabeth as her country's sovereign.

But it wouldn't hurt her feelings at all, she decided, if the rain were to stop.

As soon as she was dressed, Elizabeth dismissed her ladies with a wave of her hand. "I wish to be alone." The women all exchanged nervous glances. "Honestly," Elizabeth sighed. "What on earth do you think will happen to me in my own wardrobe?"

Any number of things, she supposed, given the way they reluctantly slipped out of the room, each one dipping into an unenthusiastic curtsey before disappearing. They wouldn't go far; they'd stand in the hallway if necessary, ready to dash to her side at a moment's notice. It seemed as though every second of her life had been spent under someone's watchful eye. Apparently even a crown couldn't bring an end to that.

She was loathe to admit it, but she might never be allowed true privacy until the day she became some man's wife, a distasteful thought if ever there was one. As if a woman could ever feel safe in the company of a man who had biblical rights over her body. As if any man was worthy of a queen's virginity.

Armed with her silver comb, Elizabeth seated herself in front of her Venetian looking glass. But she'd barely passed the comb once through her long red locks before she caught sight of something in the mirror. Someone was standing behind her. Watching her.

"Who's there?" she shouted, her comb clattering to the wooden dressing table as she whipped around to face the intruder.

There was nothing.

"Show yourself!" she demanded. Silence greeted her command although the tapestry that covered the far wall rippled in an entirely unnatural way. "I order you to show yourself to me!"

This time, her command was met with a low growl that chilled her very bones. Her hand drifted to her mouth. Whatever was hiding behind the tapestry…it didn't sound like a person at all

Elizabeth wanted to call for her guards, but her voice wouldn't work. She was mute with fear, a sudden and all-consuming terror that no monarch should ever have to sustain within her own palace. She had no idea why, but suddenly she wondered if her guards or her ladies or even a thousand of her subjects, armed and ready, would have been able to help her at all.

An assassination plot had to be underway. She'd survived her father's abandonment, her mother's beheading, her brother's untimely death and her sister's Catholic tyranny only to be killed by some fanatic who believed he was doing God's work?

Not on her life.

Elizabeth grabbed the first sharp object she could find on her dressing table, a jeweled hair pin that had belonged to her mother. It wasn't much, but if applied properly, it could do great harm to an attacker's more vulnerable parts.

"This is your last chance," she said, hoping her voice didn't waver as she addressed the thing behind the tapestry. "I have a dagger…" A lie, but how were they to know? "…and I am not afraid to use it."

Another bone-chilling snarl filled the room and Elizabeth's heart leapt into her throat. The tapestry rippled again, as if the thing was moving behind it along the length of the wall…coming towards her.

She gave herself no chance to lose her courage. Her skirts flew as she dashed across the room and stabbed at the bulge in the heavy brocaded cloth with the sharp end of the pin.

"Oy!"

It wasn't at all the response she had expected to her attack. Stumbling backwards, Elizabeth's chest rose and fell as a man fought his way out of the tapestry. When he was finally free, he raised his arm to examine it, allowing her a chance to do the same to him.

He was tall and thin, but hardly weak. His clothes were strange-long pants and a vest with sleeves down to his wrists, both brown with stripes. His hair was long in the front, seeming to stand up on its own in style she'd never seen before. Was he handsome? She supposed some women might agree to that, if they were so inclined.

But she wasn't. He was an intruder in the Queen's private chamber and would be punished accordingly.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "And how dare you enter my wardrobe without invitation!"

The man ignored her for a second in favor of rubbing the spot where she'd stabbed him through the tapestry. "Blimey, that hurt!" He looked up and their eyes met. "So much for gratitude!"

"Gratitude?" Elizabeth blinked. "I should be grateful that you've breeched my guards in order to do me harm?"

"No…" He drew the word out as he shifted his stare to a spot behind her. "But you might be grateful that I arrived in time to stop something that has." Without blinking, he began to speak in a language she didn't understand, and considering that she was fluent in several tongues, that was saying something.

"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth demanded.

"If I were you, I'd be more concerned about _who_ I'm talking to." The man gestured to her. "If you would step this way, Your Majesty."

She had every intention of telling this impertinent man exactly what her guards would do to him once she called for them, but before she could, she felt something come up behind her. The same, deep growl reverberated in her ear, only now she could tell that it hadn't come from the tapestry, but from the opposite side of the room. She gasped as she felt hot, moist breath on the back of her neck.

"Keep very still," the man said in a tone that was too calm for Elizabeth's mounting panic. "I can talk to it, but you need to remain calm."

"It?" she whispered, her body frozen. "What is it? Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor." He flashed a quick smile. "Nice to meet you. Again."

"Again? What do you...?" Elizabeth's question died when the thing…the invisible creature behind her suddenly touched her hair, lifting the long, red strands. "Oh, dear God in heaven…"

The Doctor's smile melted into a dark glare that he fixed on the same spot over her shoulder. He spoke again in the same, strange language, biting off each word in obvious anger. Whatever he said didn't seem to work; she felt fingers in her hair, twisting and tugging with a gentleness that was terrifying.

Elizabeth blinked back hot tears. "What is behind me, Doctor? I order you to tell me."

He quirked an eyebrow, but acquiesced to her command. "Verviforn. That's what it's called."

"What does it want?"

The Doctor minced no words. "Your blood."

* * *

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thank you so, so, so much for the wonderful feedback on the first chapter. It really propelled me to write this one and I hope you enjoy the second part as much!

* * *

The Doctor and the Queen

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

He was running. Running from the Ood, running from their songs, running from the prophecies, running for his life.

Was it cowardly? He didn't want to think so. He'd spent his entire life running from one thing or another. When it came right down to it, what was the difference between trying to out-pace a gas-mask zombie and trying to escape a fatal destiny? It was just survival, an instinct that was as old as the universe.

And yet for all of his justifications, the Doctor had landed himself in Tudor England, only a year into the reign of Elizabeth I.

"Just a lark," he'd told himself as he'd set the TARDIS controls. "Let's see what happens."

He could have left the puzzle that had so intrigued Martha unsolved, but deep down the Doctor knew it wasn't that simple. At some point in his life, he was meant to meet the Golden Age's queen. And it was meant to happen in this particular body, given the fact that she'd instantly recognized him.

Paradoxes could have ensued had he ignored this fact and while the Doctor wasn't completely opposed to the idea of a leaving behind a bit of chaos, in the end, he just couldn't do it. The mystery had to be solved. He had to do something to incur Queen Elizabeth's wrath, even if that meant merely popping into her palace and stealing away with her knickers.

He'd never expected to arrive in time to save her life from a Verviforn, one of the universe's most particular killers. Although after everything he'd been through in his life, it really shouldn't have surprised him at all.

"My blood?" The Queen was terrified, but he admired the way she was fighting to keep her chin firm and her voice steady. "Mine in particular?"

The Doctor tried not to grin, but it always pleased him when Humans caught on fast. "I'm afraid so." She closed her eyes briefly and the action so reminded him of Rose that it made him blink.

They really didn't look a thing alike, although they were about the same age. One had golden hair, one had copper. One was perfectly curvy; the other was tall and slender. It was their eyes, he decided. They had the same eyes. Not the same shade, of course, but the same spirit.

He had no time to ponder this further. The Verviforn spoke again, filling the room with its guttural language, which must have sounded like growling to its intended prey.

"She belongs to us," it told the Doctor. "You cannot stop our feast."

"I love it when I'm told I can't do something," the Doctor boasted. "It makes actually doing it so much more satisfying!" He looked at Elizabeth; her fear was obvious, but she had not lost her composure. A memory struck him.

_Rose. Standing in front of a decrepit Dalek. All but defenseless in her sleeveless shirt. Scared, but so certain of everything…her decision, his compassion. He'd loved her before, but right then…right then he knew she was something different. Something special. Someone he could love until time ended. _

"This is your only warning." Although he couldn't see the Verviforn, the Doctor instinctively knew exactly how to look it straight in the eye. "She is not to be touched."

"Who are you to deny us our meal?"

The Doctor's mouth twisted into a grimace. "I've been called so many things. The Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Dark Lord…although that's a bit _Harry Potter_, if you ask me." He shrugged. "You can just call me the Doctor, or if you prefer…" He paused for effect. "The Last of the Time Lords."

Dropping the name 'Time Lord' never failed. The Verviforn released Elizabeth with a great and horrible hiss and the Doctor held out his hand to the Queen.

"Your Majesty, feel up for a bit of a run?"

It only took her a second of consideration before she put her hand in his.

* * *

This man, this Doctor seemed to know Whitehall Palace better than Elizabeth did. She'd certainly had no idea that a secret passage existed which linked the royal bedchamber to the indoor tennis courts her father had built during his youth.

Although it came as little wonder that her father had desired to clandestinely move between the two past-times he loved the most: hitting a ball and plucking a rose.

"Where are we going?" Elizabeth asked as they raced across the forgotten tennis court. "We cannot keep running forever!"

"We've got to reach sanctified ground." They came to a locked door which he opened with a wave of a blue and black jeweled scepter that he removed from the inside pocket of his vest. "There is a chapel, yes?"

Elizabeth nodded. "But it still bears the Pope's mark and…"

"Oh, don't get all Reformist on me now." Grabbing her hand again, the Doctor yanked her out into the open courtyard.

The rain came down in steady sheets, soaking them both within seconds. By the time they reached the exterior door to the chapel that had been her sister's private sanctuary during her reign, Elizabeth was shivering, a fact the Doctor only seemed to notice at the last minute.

"Get inside," he urged her.

She raised her voice to be heard over the pounding rain. "How easily you give orders to a queen."

"You'd rather catch your death of cold and leave your country in turmoil?"

Her eyes narrowed, but she ducked into the chapel. The Doctor followed a second later, giving the door another wave of his scepter. If it was some sort of fortification charm, she felt less than completely protected.

"Are we safe now?"

The Doctor pocketed his scepter. "Safer, at least." Sniffing, he looked around. "No fireplace, of course, but there's no nasty drafts either." He nodded. "This should do for now."

"For now?" Elizabeth repeated. Her head felt light, even as her temper mounted. "What exactly was that creature? Why does it want my blood? And who are you?"

"I told you. I'm the Doctor."

She shook her head. "You are more sorcerer than physician."

"Well…" He adjusted the knotted tie at his throat. "Suppose I can't argue with that."

"I will not ask you again," Elizabeth thundered, stopping just short of stomping her foot. "What manner of beast was that in my…"

The Doctor cut her off. "Verviforn are the galaxy's most elite vampires. They feed on blood, only unlike other life forms that do the same, they are extremely particular about what kind of blood they drink."

"Particular? What sort do they prefer, then?" She swallowed heavily. "Royal?"

He stared at her for several painfully long seconds before abruptly turning his attention to their dark surroundings. "I can see why you've shut this place up. Bit dank, isn't it? Although, I bet your sister didn't think so. 'Course she wouldn't have. No doubt her own mother spent a lot of time in here."

Elizabeth frowned. "Are you mad?" She pointed back in the general direction of the palace. "There is a creature back there who you claim desires blood! If it cannot reach me as you say it can't so long as we stay here, then what is to stop it from feasting on my court?"

The Doctor's eyebrow lifted. "I doubt it will find many people in your court palatable."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Ah, well…you know…" He scratched his fingers through his damp hair, magically rearranging it in the spiked pattern it had been in before the rain flattened it. "Lords and ladies. Most of them…" He trailed off.

Elizabeth propped her fists up on her cinched waist. "Most of them what, Doctor?"

"Let's just say…Your Majesty is endowed with qualities that they've long since lost."

Warmth spread over her cheeks. It wasn't so much his words that gave away his meaning, but the way he refused to look her in the eye as he spoke them. "Virtue," she whispered. "Is it really as simple as that?"

The Doctor slipped his hands into his pockets. "You are the world's most famous maiden. How could the Verviforn resist such a challenge?" A moment passed in silence. "Are you all right?"

"No." The word bounced off the stone walls. "There has been one certainty in my very uncertain life and that is the fact that my virginity is heralded above any and all of my other attributes. Now you say that my life could be taken because I have followed the rules of man and God and kept chaste?"

"When you put it like that…"

Elizabeth shook her head, the wet, red ropes of her hair swaying across her back. "How can I be sure that you speak the truth?"

He frowned. "What reason would I have to lie to you?"

"Men less clever than you have breached a woman's defenses," she reminded him. "And the result is inevitably unfavorable to no one more than the woman herself."

The Doctor held up his hands. "Oh, no, no, no. You've got the wrong idea, Your Majesty. Everything I've said is true, yes, but I have no ulterior motive in this situation." He hesitated. "Beyond securing my own time line, I suppose. But that can't count because you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Off her blank look, he sighed. "Of course not."

"Then…you have truly brought me here in an honorable attempt to save my life?"

He shrugged. "It's sort of what I do."

"As a doctor?"

He touched two fingers to his forehead. "At your service, Your Majesty."

She had no idea what prompted her to say what she said next and it would be something she'd spent the next forty years pondering. "My name is Elizabeth." Her stiff tone relaxed. "My friends often call me Bess."

"Are we friends, then?" he asked, doubtfully.

"Well, if you plan to save my life, we are certainly not sworn enemies."

The Doctor rolled his eyes to the arched ceiling. "Well, isn't that just wizard?"

* * *

To Be Continued

A/N: While secret passages have been found in Whitehall Palace recently, I have taken some liberties with their placement;)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for the incredibly kind reviews on this story. I appreciate each one so much and receiving them puts such a big smile on my face.

* * *

The Doctor and the Queen

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

Elizabeth took it upon herself to light the chapel's candles. The rain that pounded on the stained glass windows had lightened, but night was rapidly approaching. As he sat on the steps leading up to the altar, the Doctor watched her move about the ornate sanctuary, the twinkle of each tiny flame emphasizing the fiery color of her hair.

_Donna_…

"Has no one ever told you that it is massively impolite to stare at a queen?"

The Doctor blinked out of his momentary reverie. "What? No. I mean, yes. Yes, of course. I just…"

"Do not let your tongue run away with you, sir." Elizabeth extinguished her long match with a delicate puff of breath. "Put it to better use and explain to me how you plan to dispatch with the creature that is hunting me." She arched an eyebrow. "You do have a plan, do you not?"

"Ah, well…'plan' may be stretching it just a bit. It's more like a…" He stopped.

"More like a what, Doctor?"

All of a sudden, the Doctor jumped to his feet. "Can I ask you something, Your Majesty?" Without waiting for confirmation, he rushed on. "Why haven't you married yet? Surely you've had offers. I'd guess more than a few."

Elizabeth frowned. "My sister is barely cold in her grave and I have had the responsibility of an entire country placed upon my shoulders. I can hardly be expected to be concerned with husband-hunting."

"But you've got advisors and such to do that for you. You'd only need to pick a bloke from the bunch who doesn't make you cringe."

The corners of her lips turned up in amusement. "Oh, if only you could see the portraits of princes and lords that have been paraded before me like meat in the marketplace."

"Not a pretty boy in the bunch?" the Doctor guessed.

Elizabeth's smile faded. "I have not married, sir, not because I am waiting for an earthly Adonis, but because I have absolutely no desire to submit to any man's will. A husband would expect to exercise authority over me, but I am the queen every moment of my life. I cannot…I will not play the doting wife, even in private."

"What if you found a man who could rule beside you, like equals?" The Doctor shrugged. "Worked for Victoria."

"Who is Victoria?"

"Eh…never mind."

She considered him for a second before shaking her head slightly. "Whoever Victoria is, if she has found a gentleman who can subdue his natural inclination to assert his masculine pride then she is truly blessed because he is a rare and costly creature."

The Doctor leaned against the altar railing. "Not all men have to put themselves above women." He paused. "I've known a few girls in my time…one in particular…who've thought nothing of putting me in my right place. And more often than not, I've needed it. Been grateful for it." He tried to grin, but it came out sadly formed. "I'd have been lost without them."

"I have no idea what to make of you, Doctor." Elizabeth gestured up and down the length of his body. "Your attire alone is more than puzzling. But your ideas…your knowledge of the supernatural…the shadows in your eyes that are always there, even when you smile…" She took a step towards him. "How did you know that my life needed to be saved today?"

"I didn't."

"You just happened to be passing through my palace?"

"Something like that."

Elizabeth was only a few inches away from him now. "Then...I should have you locked in the Tower."

"But you won't," he said with quiet confidence. "You hate the Tower. Your mother's life ended there. You almost suffered the same fate. If you could, you'd burn it to the ground."

Her eyes narrowed. "Anyone could make that assumption, given the events of my life." Several seconds passed as they watched each other. "But somehow..." Her severe expression slowly relaxed. "I do not believe that you are merely deducing what my feelings are. Perhaps that device in your pocket allows you to see into my thoughts."

"Maybe I'm just good at reading people."

"Or perhaps you know more about me than you should. As you know more about my palace. And more about the…what did you call it?"

"The Verviforn."

"For all of your impossible words…" Elizabeth's fingers were cool against his cheek. "You still feel real."

It had been so long since anyone had touched him with such tenderness. Donna's touch had been that of a friend, a best friend. Martha…Martha had wanted her touch to mean more than it did.

No, the last time a woman's touch had felt like this was when Rose had held his hand in the Dalek Crucible with the end of the world approaching. How much comfort had he taken in that simple meeting of hands, entwining of fingers? It had given him strength when it seemed like the TARDIS had been destroyed. It had given him consolation when Davros had almost convinced him that he'd fashioned his companions into weapons. She'd been his lifeline, his pillar; having her back at his side had meant everything to him. Absolutely everything.

Yet, he'd taken her back to her world. Left her with his doppelganger. He'd given up the one thing in the universe that had ever made him truly happy in order to make sure that her life was full of all the things he knew he could never give her.

And how did the universe reward him? It decreed that he should die.

Rose was gone. Martha had started a new life. Donna had forgotten him. But his life wasn't over yet. And at that very moment, he wasn't alone.

It wouldn't last though. He would have to face his song soon. No more distractions. No more stalling.

"Your Majesty." He reached up, drawing her hand away from his face. "Please don't forgive me for this."

Before he could change his mind, the Doctor covered the queen's lips with his own in the hardest, most brazen kiss possible. She squealed in protest, but he didn't let up. In fact, he gripped her slender shoulders and applied more pressure.

She wasn't Rose. No one would ever be Rose. But for half a second, his heart hurt less.

When he finally broke the kiss, he took a large step backwards to avoid the slap he was sure would follow. But the blow never came. Instead, Elizabeth remained motionless for several seconds, her eyes shut until her pale lashes fluttered and lifted. The look of wonder on her face…he'd seen it once before and just like before, he wasn't at all prepared for it.

_Martha…_

The Doctor plunged his hands into his hair. "Oh bloody hell."

* * *

For years, Elizabeth had listened to the whispered tales of stolen kisses from her ladies-in-waiting without ever truly understanding what made them carry on so. Was this what sent them into fits of muffled giggles? This feeling of warmth that spread throughout her body, in spite of the cold? The absolutely mad idea that she wouldn't mind at all if he was to kiss her again?

"That was…"

The Doctor cut her off. "Bad. Very, very bad. Appalling. Shameless. Indefensible. Punishable by…"

"Wicked," Elizabeth finished. He seemed cheered by this until she added, "And wonderful." A shadow crossed her face as he heaved a sigh. "You do not feel the same."

"I was rather hoping I would offend you beyond pardon." The Doctor dragged his hand down his face. "But I always seem to mess this bit up."

Elizabeth shook her head. "How, after such an intimate moment, can you be more of a mystery than you were before?" She closed the distance between them. "Will I ever understand you, Doctor?"

The sudden smashing of the window above them prevented him from answering. The Doctor pushed her to the ground, throwing himself over her as shield against the colored glass that rained down upon them.

When it stopped, he leapt to his feet and looked up at the broken window. Elizabeth turned her eyes to the same spot and gasped. What had once been invisible was now clearly discernible. The Verviforn had the figure of a man, but its face was hidden in the hood of a dark cloak. It hung suspended in the air outside the chapel, but as soon as it saw Elizabeth, it swept inside, making a dive for them both.

Although the Doctor tried to guard her again with his body, the Verviforn was too quick. As it passed over them, it grabbed Elizabeth's arm. She kicked and screamed, but it managed to drag her several feet away. She could feel the coldness of its clawed hand through the sleeve of her dress. It growled in her ear, its horrible voice growing louder the harder she fought to free herself.

Was this it? Was this how she was meant to die? Perhaps her life would have been better ended on the blade of an executioner's axe or through a goblet of poisoned wine. Her heart beat wildly beneath her breast as she kept struggling against the creature. Even if God willed this fate, she would not meet it gently!

A sudden splash of icy water against the side of her face and the horrible cry that followed from the Verviforn momentarily knocked Elizabeth out of her senses. By the time she blinked back to attention, the creature had released her. She wasted no time scrambling away from it, taking refuge behind the Doctor who was holding a now-empty basin of holy water.

The Verviforn stumbled about in agony before making the great leap back up to the stone lip of the broken window. It vanished into the night as quickly as it had appeared.

"God bless your sister and her God-blessed water," the Doctor said a moment later, his voice echoing off the walls. He set the basin down and turned to Elizabeth. "Are you all right?"

"Unharmed." Elizabeth looked down at her arm. Her sleeve was almost detached from the shoulder of her dress, exposing a long length of pale skin. Her unblinking stare lifted and met the Doctor's. "It would have killed me."

His reply was simple, but provided no reassurance. "Yes."

"If not for you." She moved slowly past him; each step was labored, as if she walked through a bog. When she reached a piece of the broken window, she knelt down and carefully picked it up. The shard bore the image of Mary, the Virgin Mother. "Will it come back?"

"The Verviforn don't give up a meal easily," the Doctor replied. "And it looks like we're out of holy water. So unless you know of a priest who'd come out of hiding to do some quick blessing…" He crouched down next to her. "Your Majesty?" She turned her head. "Bess?" he tried again.

When Elizabeth closed her eyes, twin tears spilled down her cheeks. "I do not want to die," she whispered.

He let out a soft, regretful chuckle. "Who does?"

"You say the creature only desires the blood of an untouched woman." Elizabeth looked back at him without bothering to wipe her tears away. "If its prey were to be…touched, would it stop?"

The Doctor stared at her for a second before shooting to his feet. "You know…you've had a rough evening and you're not thinking clearly. Before you make any rash decisions about…you know…anything, perhaps you should…"

"I am not a child, Doctor. Nor do I have no knowledge of the relations between men and women. In fact, it was the pressure to turn knowledge into experience that was placed upon me by my brother's uncle when I was but a girl that soured me to the passions of the bedchamber."

He looked down at his hands. "Yes, I know. There's one good reason to keep the Tower running," he snarled. "For monsters such as Seymour."

Elizabeth stood up. "You wish to save my life, do you not?" He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. "Do you or do you not, Doctor?"

"I can't let you die," he rather reluctantly admitted a moment later. "But there must be another way." He beat his fist against his temple. "Think, brain! Think!"

She reached for his hand to stop the self-inflicted lashing. "The answer is perfectly clear. I can be a maid no longer."

His Adam's apple bobbed. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"But," Elizabeth continued. "Neither can I be a strumpet. I shall have to be married. Tonight. And since no man can ask for a queen's hand, I must choose my own husband."

"Well, good luck with that! I'd stay for the wedding, but…you know…places to be, people to see." He pointed to the chapel door. "Best be on my…"

"Doctor." Elizabeth waited until he reluctantly looked back at her. "I choose you."

Seconds stretched by like centuries. "Damn." The Doctor was in agony. "Still got it."

* * *

To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I really can't stress enough how much I appreciate all of your kind words on this story. Enjoy!

* * *

The Doctor and the Queen

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

If he survived the prophecy that foretold his death and managed to regenerate in time, the Doctor severely hoped that his next incarnation would not be cursed with good looks. Short and ugly, that was the way to go, winning over companions in the old-fashioned method, by saving their lives, instead of with his face and figure.

But for now, he was stuck in this particular body, good hair and all, facing a marriage proposal from the Virgin Queen of England.

A massive time paradox would have been so much easier.

"Surely there's got to be better candidates than me," he rushed to remind Elizabeth. "What about that Dudley fellow? Bet he'd love it if you asked for his hand."

Her tone was cool. "Robert Dudley is a married man."

"Oh, yeah." The Doctor scratched his chin. "Forgot about that."

"So does Robert whenever it suits his purposes." Elizabeth looked down at her hands. "Am I to take this as your refusal, Doctor?" She glanced up when he said nothing. "Are you already married?"

The Doctor had to shake his head. "Nope. No. Definitely not married."

"But…there is someone in your heart?" He glanced away, swallowing heavily, and Elizabeth lowered her chin again. "Who is she?"

It took him a long time to reply. "Someone I can never have."

"Another man's wife?" Elizabeth guessed.

The Doctor let out a bitter chuckle. "By now, probably, if he's got half the brain I know he should."

Seconds slipped by in silence. "It almost broke my heart when I learned that Robert was married." The Doctor closed his eyes briefly when Elizabeth placed her hand on his sleeve. "I am sorry, but if you cannot find solace in her arms, could you take comfort in mine?" She paused. "If only to spare me from a bloody fate at the hands of a monster?"

"There must be someone else."

But even as he said this, the Doctor knew that there wasn't. Any of the dozens of men at court who would jump at the chance to marry the queen would also do almost anything to advance their title from consort to king. Elizabeth's life would never be safe, even if she produced a dozen male heirs.

Not to mention the fact that history would be completely rewritten.

The Doctor looked down at Elizabeth. He could still see Rose in her eyes, trusting him with her very life. His own personal history had already told him that he would break that trust one day and that Bess would come to consider him her mortal enemy. Could it be as simple as turning her down and leaving when she needed him the most?

No, he couldn't do that either. The Verviforn would never let up until it devoured her innocent blood. Still vulnerable from the political turmoil that followed Edward's untimely death and Mary's reign, England would be thrown into utter chaos if Elizabeth died before she had a chance to turn her country into a powerful nation.

There was only one way to keep history on track and that was to bed the queen. But in order to do that, he would have to marry her. He'd done it before and survived.

Although…he was admittedly rubbish at the whole thing. Perhaps that was what would lead Elizabeth to despise him: simply being married to him at all.

"It'll have to be done in secret," the Doctor heard himself say to her. "And quickly. The Verviforn won't have gone far to lick its wounds."

Elizabeth was pale, but she nodded her agreement. "There is a priest in town. We are friends and he will…"

When she trailed off, the Doctor said, "It isn't too late to stop this, Bess."

"Honestly, I have never thought to be married," she confessed. "Marriage has made no one I've known happy. In fact, more often than not, it's brought about their unhappiness. Or their death." Her lashes glistened with unshed tears. "But you. Why do I feel as though marriage to you would be different? I do not believe you desire my throne, nor do I think you wish to use me for some selfish purpose."

It was partially true. Keeping history intact was hardly selfish, even if part of it happened to be his own.

Breaking the moment, the Doctor patted down his pockets until he produced an emerald ring he'd won during a game of cards the night before the Battle of the Nile. He offered it to Elizabeth and watched as she took it with trembling fingers.

"Green," she said, smoothing her thumb over the precisely cut gem. "'Greensleeves was my heart of gold,'" she whispered. She closed the ring up in her palm. "You are not my father." Looking up at him, she asked, "You will not disregard me so unkindly?"

The Doctor hesitated before lying. "'Course not."

* * *

"Your Majesty?" Peter Sutton had only been a parish priest for as long as Elizabeth had been a monarch, but her request would have shocked even the most seasoned bishop. "Have I misheard you?"

"You have not. I wish to be married. Tonight."

Glancing around the private chambers of Whitehall Palace to which he'd been summoned in the middle of the night, Peter seemed rightfully wary of this command. "To whom, may I ask?"

At that very moment, the Doctor stepped out of the curtained-off antechamber where Elizabeth had sent him with the clothes she had ordered her one of her ladies to bring to her. As to what the woman imagined Elizabeth wanted men's clothing for, she cared not. Let it be spread around court that she had taken to dressing like a man in private. Perhaps she even might.

The doublet he wore was black and fitted, made of the same fabric that comprised the bulbous upper hose that covered him to mid thigh. Below that, black nether hose encased his legs, ending in leather boots. If he hadn't still worn his strange spectacles, she might have mistaken the Doctor for any young man of London.

"To him," Elizabeth told the priest.

The Doctor tugged at the high collar of his doublet. "Should've changed in the TARDIS," he muttered to himself. "But this'll have to do."

Peter blinked before turning to Elizabeth. "Is your Majesty feeling well?"

"Perfectly so." Straightening her back, Elizabeth went to the Doctor's side. "This must be done quickly, sir, and quietly. Fail me not and you shall be well rewarded."

"Of course, my lady." Still, Peter was rather reluctant as he opened his Book of Common Prayer and began to prepare for the ceremony.

Elizabeth turned to the Doctor. "I do appreciate you agreeing to change your attire. While I find your clothes…intriguing, poor Peter has enough weight upon his conscience without believing that he is marrying me to a foreign invader."

"Yes, but…" The Doctor shook out his leg in wonder. "Tights? When was the last time I was in tights?"

"You wear the hose very well." The moment the words were out of her mouth, Elizabeth blushed furiously. "I mean to say…it suits you fine." A slow smile spread on the Doctor's face which only made her cheeks grow hotter. "Oh…blast it all!"

His grin faded. "I still say it isn't too late to change your mind."

Elizabeth shook her head. "This is the only course." She cleared her throat and addressed Peter. "We are ready."

Peter cleared his throat. "We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony."

It all happened so fast. Before Elizabeth quite knew it, Peter asked the Doctor, "Will you…" He stopped short.

"John," the Doctor supplied. Elizabeth turned her head ever so slightly towards him in surprise. "John Smith."

"Will you, John Smith, have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

Elizabeth held her breath until the Doctor nodded. "John Smith will."

The rest of the ceremony passed in the blink of an eye, leaving Elizabeth's stomach churning as Peter pronounced them man and wife.

Just who exactly had she married?

* * *

To Be Continued

A/N: I know there's no historical evidence that Henry VIII composed "Greensleeves" for Anne Boleyn...but there's no hard evidence that says he didn't:)


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thank you so much everyone for such great feedback, especially Luna and Erin, my fellow Who-vians and Donna-enthusiasts! Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

The Doctor and the Queen

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

He was nervous. There was no use in denying it or downplaying it or even ignoring it. He'd faced fleets of Daleks, dodged regiments of Cybermen, outsmarted the Weeping Angels and sent the Vashta Nerada scurrying away at the mere mention of his name. And yet for all of that, the prospect of lying with the Queen of England had him sweating like a mad man.

It wasn't the act itself. Human reproduction was fairly simple and straightforward, unlike many species he'd encountered in both the past and the future. But Humans, more so than any other sentient beings, attached incredible amounts of emotion to the process of creating their offspring.

That was the part that had taken him years to recognize and then decades to understand-how this endeavor to combine two cells could create so much confusion, anguish, obsession and joy. It was Humanity's greatest puzzle and it wasn't until he met Rose that the pieces began to take shape for him.

_There's five of us now. Mum, Dad, Mickey...and the baby._

_You're not...?_

In that split second that followed, although he'd known that it was entirely out of the realm of possibility, he'd been able to see it so clearly in his mind. Rose, growing heavy with a child they'd created together. And in that moment, the mystery of Human sexuality hadn't seemed so incredulous. It certainly hadn't seemed distasteful.

Quite the opposite, in fact. So much so that when her image faded, and he was back on the TARDIS, all alone, he'd shed a tear for what could have been had he figured it all out sooner. Part of him and part of Rose in one tiny body. A link that would have bound them for the rest of time.

Yes, the Doctor understood Humans a little better now. But that knowledge still hadn't prepared him for what he'd agreed to do when he took on the responsibility of saving the Queen's life.

"I am not to be disturbed." On the other side of the drawn curtain that served as a door between the sitting room and the bedchamber, he could hear Elizabeth speaking to her ladies-in-waiting. "Even if the entire Spanish armada invades our shores, no one is to enter these rooms uninvited or unannounced, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," the young women murmured in dutiful chorus.

He heard a door close and then there was silence. His hearts beat fast in his chest. What was the saying? _Close your eyes and think of England._

The curtain parted and Elizabeth entered the room clad in a heavy, brocaded robe, her hair loose about her arms. Although her chin was bravely lifted, the hand she used to hold a single candle was trembling ever so slightly.

She blinked when she saw that he'd exchanged his doublet and tights for his brown suit, minus the striped jacket which was slung over a nearby lounging chair. "You are still dressed."

"Er...yes, well..." The Doctor searched for an excuse. "There's a nasty draft in here."

The bed stretched between them like Hadrian's Wall. Elizabeth approached it cautiously and set the candleholder down on the table beside it. "I suppose we should..." Her gaze dropped to the turned-down covers as her words faded out.

"Bess." It took her a second to look him in the eye. "In a lot of ways, I don't know much more about all of this than you do...but I do know one thing." His Adam's apple bobbed. "They say it's better with someone you love."

"There is no one I love." Elizabeth traced her fingers over the lace pattern of the fine linen sheet. "And there will never be a man who will matter more to me than my country and my duty." When she looked up, he could tell that she'd made her final decision. "You understand?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah." Reaching for the knot in his tie, he began to loosen it. "I understand."

She watched him strip the tie away and undo the top two buttons of his shirt. When he started on the third, Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath.

"What?" Frowning, the Doctor looked down, searching for anything out of the ordinary. "Is something wrong?"

"No!" She regained her composure. "No. I just..." Elizabeth shook her head. "Forgive me. Please...do go on."

He got all the way to the fourth button before he stopped, this time of his own accord. "This isn't right," he declared, plunging a hand through his hair. He sighed. "This isn't how this is supposed to happen."

"But it must happen!" In a flurry of silk, Elizabeth climbed up onto the mattress. "Doctor...John Smith...whoever you are, I order you to join me in this bed!"

"Well, there's a mood killer." With his chest half exposed, the Doctor paced to the far end of the room before turning back to face her. "Look, there's no need to rush anything. We have time to..."

"To what, Doctor? To talk?" Elizabeth lifted her shoulders. "Whatever is there to talk about? We both know what needs to happen here. Why are you now so hesitant to see this through?"

"Because you are."

She blinked. "I am not."

His smile was sad. "Yes, you are."

"I most certainly am not!" As if to prove her indignant retort, Elizabeth suddenly shrugged out of her robe, leaving her in a sheer chemise that left little to the imagination. "I am not unattractive, sir." She squared her shoulders, putting the few curves she possessed on great display. "Surely you can bear the burden of claiming your conjugal rights."

With his hands in his pockets, the Doctor slowly made his way back to the bed. "You remind me so much of someone," he murmured. "Same spitfire spirit." Lost in a memory, he went on, "She wouldn't have taken 'no' for answer, either. That is...if the question had ever been asked." Regret welled up in his throat, nearly choking him. "But it wasn't."

"The woman you spoke of before?" Elizabeth gracefully slid off the bed and started around the frame towards him. "What was her name?"

"Rose." That one word had become a prayer for him; saying it always filled him with both peace and longing. "Her name was Rose."

"You loved her."

Sniffing, the Doctor looked away at the same time he jerked his shoulder. "Doesn't matter now."

"I think it does." Elizabeth stopped only inches away from him. "I know so very little about you. Who you are, where you come from...even your real name is a mystery. And yet...knowing that you loved someone enough to still mourn their loss shows me more of your soul than if you wore it on your sleeve."

The Doctor remained still, even when she slipped her fingers under his shirt and covered his left heart. Her touch was delicate and yet he could feel every atom of her skin as it touched his own.

Their eyes met. "Please kiss me," she whispered.

"Is that a royal order?"

"No." Elizabeth closed what little distance remained between them, pressing the length of her body against his tall frame. "It is a request...from your wife."

Their lips brushed against each other once hesitantly, twice softly, before something seized them both, urging their mouths to grind together madly.

It occurred to him that he had now kissed Elizabeth three times, once more than he'd kissed Rose, twice if you didn't count the instance where her body had been under Cassandra's control. Instead of making him pull back, though, somehow that thought propelled him to walk forward, pushing Elizabeth towards the bed.

Was it some Human instinct that allowed her to work the final buttons on his shirt free? He had no idea and no time to ponder it as she pushed the garment off his shoulders. The drawstring on her chemise was less of a challenge for him; with one firm yank, the looped bow unfurled and the gown opened around her neck.

Elizabeth drew away to pull the linen shift over her head. Her rapid, heavy breathing was the only sound in the room as she stood bare before him. Unaware of his own inability to blink, the Doctor's eyes roamed up and down her body.

"Didn't I tell you before?" Her voice brought him back to attention. An impish smile curled the corners of her lips. "It is massively impolite to stare at a queen, sir." Her amusement wilted when he said nothing. "Doctor?" She hesitated. "Are you wishing...I was her?"

He said nothing, but the way he guided her onto the bed and covered her body with his could have been a 'yes' just as easily as it might have been a 'no.'

* * *

_She wanted to ask him something. He could tell by the way she was practically dancing around the console, darting forward one second and retreating the next. Having acknowledged her presence with a smile and a nod, he kept working on fixing the grav-shaft regulator which had been sticking since...well, he couldn't remember when it had ever worked properly, but now seemed as good a time as any to attend to it while he waited for Rose to spill whatever was on her mind. _

_When she finally said, "Doctor?" she spoke in the smallest of voices, as if she didn't really want him to hear or answer at all. _

_"Hmm?" _

_He knew that if he looked at her, he'd catch her chewing on her bottom lip, a habit that had become more adorable each time he witnessed it. "I was just thinking...about what we talked over on the station?" She took a step towards him. "You know...houses and mortgages and...settling down. Do you...do you remember that?" _

_He hadn't forgotten. He'd gone face to face with a creature that claimed to be the devil, but he still remembered that conversation when it seemed like they would be stuck in the future forever. Together._

_But all he said was, "What about it?"_

_"Can you?" The question slipped out so fast that Rose's hand shot to her mouth. He glanced up; her eyes were wide and he very nearly laughed at her embarrassment. _

_"Can I..." he helped her out, "...buy a house?" _

_Rose lowered her hand. "No. I mean, can you..." She forced herself to go on. "Can you...settle down? Could you...that is to say...would you be able to...I don't know..." Rose inched closer to him as innocently as possible. "Have a family?" _

_"I had a family," he reminded her. "Mother, father, crazy uncle...the whole bit." _

_"But what about a family of your own?" She was blushing. His Rose was blushing. "Like, children? Have you ever thought about having children?" _

_He cleared his throat. "It's occurred to me, yeah." _

_"How do you...how do Time Lords...?" _

_"Rose." He'd abandoned the grav-shaft and fixed her with a look that wasn't dark, but didn't encourage further speculation on this subject. "Would you fancy a trip to the Crystal Palace at the 1851 World's Fair?" _

_"I'd rather get a proper answer." _

_A long moment passed between them. "To what end?" he finally asked._

_Rose shook her head ever so slightly. "You the one who taught me to ask questions, dig deeper, learn all I can." Her eyes bore into him. "Didn't know I was supposed to draw the line at you." _

_He folded his arms over his chest. "What if the answer's not what you want to hear?" _

_"I don't want to hear anything in particular," she lied. "Forget it, then." Rose turned on her heel and started off. "I'm not in the mood for a fair anymore." _

_He should have gone after her and explained everything. In fact, a very real part of him wanted to tell her that not only was her unspoken question possible, but that he'd been considering it just as much as she had. But the grav-shaft wasn't going to unstick itself. _

_Companions came and went, lovers were separated and lost, but the TARDIS was his forever._

* * *

They were still joined and yet Elizabeth could tell from the look on his face that the Doctor was no longer with her.

Hot tears stung her eyes, yet not for her lost innocence, nor for the vague discomfort that lingered. No, these tears were for him. Her husband...the man who was so close and yet so very far away.

She touched forehead to his shoulder and ran her fingers through the fine hairs at the back of his head. The danger had passed. Her life had been saved.

Why did her heart feel so very heavy?

* * *

To Be Continued


End file.
